


Feed Me

by hocotate



Series: Chaptered fics [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gore, Horror, M/M, layhan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-05 17:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10313696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hocotate/pseuds/hocotate
Summary: Yixing is an outcast; depressed, unemployed, hungry. Luhan is a friend who does his best to help.





	1. Chapter 1

Yixing is not insane. Not if you ask his best friend, at least. He is just a bit sensitive, emotionally labile. Deemed unfit for work, entitled to sickness benefits according to various medical assessors. He acts impulsively at times, but he has never been violent, and although he might look a bit broken, he is not insane. Not at all.  
  
  
“I’m so hungry,” he complains out loud one day, pounding his head against the kitchen table. “Hungry, hungry, hungry!"  
  
  
Breadcrumbs stick to his greasy hair when it rubs against the tabletop, but a messy apartment isn’t the reason for the following groan. Sounding more like a volcanic eruption than the result of missed meals, his stomach rumbles, probably loud enough to keep the entire neighbourhood up at night.  
  
  
A tired sigh joins the cacophony of gastric noises when Luhan turns around to join his friend, finally finished with conquering the huge tower of dishes. It has been a week or maybe more since his last visit, and his previous absence is now literally palpable.  
  
  
“It's okay,” he says with a smile, caressing the sunken area between Yixing’s scapulae. “I'll make you something to eat.”  
  
  
Vertebrae are visible through stained fabric that has probably not been washed for weeks, and Luhan traces them with his fingers, massaging the sharp bones gently. He refuses to listen when Yixing starts complaining about “already having eaten”, because he knows perfectly well what definition of “eating” is his friend’s preferred one. There is in Yixing’s world no other connotation to the word “meal” than “a few crackers soaked in milk”, and he did _,_ furthermore, just a few moments ago grumble about being hungry.  
  
  
Ignoring the protests and the continued groaning, he looks through the cabinets in search of something edible. There isn’t much, but he can probably scrape together at least something.  
  
  
Preparing the meal doesn’t take him very long because the lack of proper ingredients forces him to exclude any complicated or even remotely fancy options. Regretting his choice to not stop by the grocery store before, he finishes some porridge and pours it into one of the newly washed bowls. The grey mush looks more like gelatinous toilet paper than food, but it’s despite the unpalatable shade still more of a meal than anything Yixing has consumed in the last week. He will surely survive.  
  
  
“It won't help,” Yixing murmurs at the sight of it, looking rather ridiculous where he sits with his forehead specked with tiny pieces of water biscuits, and his messy hair sticking out in every direction. “I already ate.”  
  
  
There is a hint of a pout on his lips but it is nothing like the cute one that used to grace them in the past. It doesn't even look childish anymore, just sad and pathetic, and so Luhan clicks his mouth in pity.  
  
  
“Silly little Xing,” he teases, patting Yixing’s head before pushing the bowl of porridge towards him. “Don’t be a child. Now eat.”  
  
  
A fruit fly hovers by and he whisks it away from the food, wondering what business such an insect would have here. A quick look at Yixing’s malnourished figure and ashen skin is all one needs to know that no fruits or vegetables ever pass through his front door, so unless there is some rotting corpse hidden somewhere around here, that little fly must be lost and confused.  
  
  
Despite his chronic aversion to bugs making a mental reminder to bring his anaemic friend a big dose of vitamins and minerals next time, Luhan seats himself down and smiles encouragingly.  
  
  
It’s almost painful to watch Yixing eat, but he can’t help but laugh a bit at that childish grimace. Ready to poke that wrinkled nose only to jerk away in surprise when something soft brushes against his own foot, he leans back and exhales in relief. It’s just Mya-Mya.  
  
  
He’s still unused to the thought of Yixing owning a pet, especially when said man is having trouble caring for even himself. It looks quite cosy, though, Luhan can’t help but admit when Mya-Mya rubs against Yixing’s leg and purrs heavily. Feline company might just do the trick when it comes to his childhood friend’s mental instability, and perhaps it will even help treat his asociality.  
  
  
A few bites are all Yixing forces himself to swallow before stopping, as per usual. Suddenly distracted by the furry creature seeking his attention, he looks down with his cheeks stuffed and grins.  
  
  
“Aghosch guth githeh flmmh,” he mumbles eloquently with his mouth full, porridge seeping from the corners of his lips. Spitting the now liquid mass back into the bowl, not caring about it running down his chin nor splashing all over the table, he wipes his mouth with the palm of his scrawny hand. Luhan frowns at the sight of perfectly edible food getting rejected, yet he remains passive.  
  
  
Mya-Mya, of course, is more than happy to receive what is pure luxury compared to the dry, budget cat food which she is so awfully fed up with. Licking the bowl of porridge clean, leaving not even a single trail of saliva, she avoids Yixing’s grabby hands by just a second and shoots away for a well-deserved dinner nap.  
  
  
A disappointed pout finds Yixing’s lips and he crosses his arms, muttering quietly. “I’m still hungry,” he whines before pounding his head against the table just like before, groaning in pace with his forehead getting bruised.  
  
  
Luhan just sighs, rolling his eyes when the sound of Yixing’s growling stomach mixes with the thumps. Sometimes, just sometimes, he wonders why is he still doing this; nurturing his social case of a friend, stuffing him with food which will get either regurgitated or spat out in protest. Dragging him to the park only to receive complaints about how bright the sun is, or tucking him in for a night of film watching only to find his own hand numb from excessive squeezing despite Yixing being the one who likes to watch horror. He loves his friend, he really does, but there is a limit to how much one person alone can endure.  
  
  
He remains silent when Yixing eventually stops pounding, too used to this kind of behaviour to even raise an eyebrow anymore. Nevertheless reaching out his hand, fingers brushing through tendrils of hair that are now filled with crumbs and stained by porridge, he clicks his tongue and rises to his feet.  
  
  
“Let’s get you clean, hm?” he sighs before reaching under Yixing’s arms, pulling the since long grown man up to stand. A detached hum is all he gets in response and so he leads him towards the bathroom, ready to clean him of this smell of apathy. “You smell terrible, Xing. When did you last shower?”  
  
  
There is no response and he sighs again, ready to give up, yet wanting nothing else than to turn things alright. He is used to it, though, he tells himself when ridding Yixing of those unwashed clothes reeking of sweat; the lethargy, the asociality, the occasionally impulsive behaviour. It is all something he has grown familiar with by now, accepted as a part of nourishing and entertaining his oldest, most precious friend. He is used to it, and he is completely okay with it. He has to be, at least.  
  
  
“That porridge was really terrible, I know,” he laughs as they step into the shower together, not forced to accompany his friend but too protective to let him wash alone. “I’ll buy you some ice cream later to make up for it, okay?”  
  
  
“Mhm…” Yixing answers as he lowers his head and mopes, but Luhan snaps him on the nose hard, scowling.  
  
  
“ _Okay?_ ” he repeats, not giving up until his friend stops sulking, and Yixing does despite his lingering pout start to grin mischievously, unable to hold it in.  
  
  
“I don’t want ice cream, I want cake,” he mumbles, head still lowered and fisted hands bumping against Luhan’s sides childishly. “With ice cream and chocolate on top.”  
  
  
Sometimes Luhan wonders why he is still doing this, but thoughts like that are just the result of stress and fatigue. Giggling a bit when Yixing spits water at his face, and crooning softly while massaging his friend’s scalp with argan conditioner, he relaxes and smiles and allows himself to breathe. Life isn’t easy but that’s just an excuse, a poor reason to give up something precious. He knows this all too well, just as he deep inside knows perfectly well why is he still doing all this after all these months.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“So how are things with Yixing nowadays? I heard he got a puppy,” Minseok asks the next day, sipping his clean, black coffee. They’re sitting at their usual coffee shop, watching cars and pedestrians pass by from where they chatting leisurely by some tall bar tables.  
  
  
Luhan lets out a sigh, dropping another lump of free sugar into his own cup before stirring it mindlessly. He’s never really enjoyed his coffee sweetened, but today has been one of those bad days, so he’s really in need of a lift up. The smell of porridge and cat litter is still stuck in his nose even though it has been hours since he woke up in Yixing’s unkempt bed, and he thinks that perhaps a lethal dose of sickly sweet something will help kill his senses.  
  
  
“He got a _kitten_ ,” he chuckles without feeling, watching the white cube dissolve with the coffee. “He’s still on welfare so I told him not to, but apparently the shelter he visited had some blind one they wanted to get rid of. It was up for euthanasia, anyway, so they gave it to him for free. Food and litter are still a cost, of course, but I think he’ll make it, at least if I help a bit. I actually feel a bit bad for disagreeing with him at first, now when things are settled and all, because he used to be so lonely, you know– all that cutting and crying, remember? I think that cat is really good for him, honestly. You should see him, Minseok-ah. He’s so much happier now.”  
  
  
Minseok has been smiling throughout the entire monologue, but Luhan knows that that’s just how he is. Lips constantly curling, not a single worry gnawing on his brain even when the world around him is burning. It can be annoying or even infuriating at times, feeling as if this friend doesn’t _understand_ , but it’s usually none of that. Rather than anger, Minseok offers a kind of peace so different from the deep frustration given birth to by Yixing.  
  
  
“I’m glad he seems happy,” he laughs, pleased to hear about his old schoolmate’s wellbeing. “I’m not really surprised, though. Pets should be prescribed instead of medication, that’s what I’ve always said. They change people, I believe. For the better.”  
  
  
Luhan chuckles again, yet fooling no one with that sad smile of his. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
  
Dropping another lump into his coffee after noting that his brain isn’t breaking down because of sweetness yet, he frowns at the cup as if it’s to blame for everything that has happened. It’s at the point when the sugar won’t really dissolve, but float in tiny piece on the black surface, mocking him with its mere presence.  
  
  
“He’s struggling, though, and he still can't work. It's too risky…” he continues, staring at his own hands that are shaking because of the huge amount of caffeine consumed since morning. Inhaling deeply in an attempt to swallow this sudden unease, he tries to keep talking only to find himself choking on words. “I don’t know if he will ever–”  
  
  
Nothing unforeseen happened today, yet he has to fight for his thoughts not to wander in unwanted directions. Yixing refused to leave bed, as usual, pulling Luhan back to stay with him until noon. He refused to eat, refused to shower, refused to open the blinds, refused step outside. He did many such things but nothing new, so why Luhan is now breaking down is a question worth asking.  
  
  
“I just don’t know what to do, Minseok-ah,” he begins to snivel when the thoughts get too much, flooding his mind which is, in truth, still unaccustomed to all that has happened since the accident. “I wish I could do more but I just– How can I call myself his best friend when I couldn’t even do anything when–”  
  
  
“You need to stop blaming yourself. You had nothing to do with that.”  
  
  
Tears are rolling in a steady stream and Minseok’s voice is stern. The hands on Luhan’s shoulder is steady, yet gentle, but those honest words are still of little comfort.  
  
  
“I know, but still. I failed him, Minseok. If I had only been there when it–”  
  
  
“There are some things you can’t control, Lu, and there are wounds that only time can heal.” The hand is still on his shoulder and he looks up, caught in eye contact when Minseok continues in a softer tone. “It will get better, I’m sure of it. Just give it some time and believe in him, that’s all he needs right now. He’ll be alright eventually, you’ll see. I know he will.”  
  
  
The tears stop falling when Minseok lets go of his shoulder, sending him an encouraging smile while refilling both of their cups. There is no room for sugar or milk anymore but he doesn’t really mind, not when relief washes over him like a slow, silent tide. Grabbing his own cup, letting its warmth spread from his fingers and fill his body and mind alike, he inhales deeply and nods in response.  
  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
  
Minseok is right. Yixing might be struggling now, but time will help him go back to what he was. He will be alright. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not meant to be pure horror, but I'm rather hoping for it to come across as at least a bit unsettling in the end. Hope you'll enjoy it!


	2. Chapter 2

It’s already late afternoon after a short but nonetheless strenuous workday when Luhan steps into Yixing’s kitchen, finding his best friend cross-legged on a chair with a ball of fluff on his lap. Yixing is playing happily with Mya-Mya who has grown substantially in just a week, imitating her meows as if they are actually conversing. His questionable sanity is, however, not what catches Luhan’s attention, and neither is the size of that quickly growing furball.  
  
“What happened to your hands?” Luhan asks tiredly, yet soberly, dumping his bag on the kitchen table without caring about the dust or the suspicious, red stains. A pair of scissors lie on the sink among dirty glasses, probably used to cut the bandages that are now wrapped poorly around Yixing’s bleeding fingers.  
  
Yixing looks up, pausing the conversation which did, in all honestly, sound quite serious. As if taken aback by the question, he stares at Luhan with eyes wide open only to lower his head after just a second.  
  
“Oh, I–I just–” he mumbles, burying his swathed fingers in Mya-Mya’s thick fur. “I don’t really know.”  
  
He puts on an act, with his averted gaze and pouting lips pretending to be all innocent, but Luhan won’t have any of his theatricals. Yixing might be forgetful at times, but not even a person who leaves his front door unlocked fails to remember what happened to his own body. This is why Luhan crosses his arms, sending him an admonishing look.  
  
“Yixing.”  
  
“I just fell.”  
  
Luhan raises an eyebrow, smart enough to recognise a lie. He isn’t even amused, but in painful awareness of previous incidents worried about his best friend’s wellbeing.  
  
“You _fell?_ ” he asks, knowing that it isn’t true, yet willing to offer the option of admitting. His foot is tapping against the wooden floorboards that haven’t been vacuumed in weeks, and Yixing looks up again, feigning sincerity.  
  
“Yes, from a helicopter,” he says, and it actually looks as if he believes it himself. Perhaps it is meant to be sarcastic, perhaps he is just fooling himself; Luhan isn’t sure anymore, just like he never is nowadays.  
  
There comes no further explanation and so he gives up. “Let me see–” he sighs in defeat as he steps towards the table, reaching forward to grab Yixing’s hands only to find his own shoved away.  
  
“No!”  
  
Mya-Mya falls to the floor with a thud when Yixing shoots up, scurrying away with swift, bare feet. Locking himself in the bathroom, with a soft ‘click’ leaving Luhan speechless and his kitten offended, he turns on the shower without stepping in. Luhan knows that he’s not really washing because they have through this before; Yixing crouching in the corner, sulking, for some absurd reason thinking that the sound of water running will have anyone believe that nothing is wrong.  
  
“You child…” he mutters, anxious and tired but not really mad. Peeking at the scissors, at the blades and leftover bandages all covered in what must be blood, he shuts his eyes and tries to recall Minseok’s words. _It will be alright_ , he thinks, fighting a sudden nausea. _Time heals all wounds_.  
  
He looks again, gaze travelling to the floor. There is a small, timeworn silver cross lying beneath the chair on which Yixing just sat on, attached to the link which he has despite not being religious at all born around his neck since that unfortunate day a few months ago. Crouching to pick it up, squeezing it between his fingers until the cold metals turns warm, Luhan frowns, wondering how it ended up there. It never leaves Yixing’s neck which is why the find surprises him, but this is, however, no time for to ponder over such mundane matters.  
  
He doesn’t linger; instead, he puts it in his pocket, making a mental reminder to return it later. Perhaps his friend was just using to play with the kitten, seeing how cats seem to love everything that isn’t made for them to play with. That would, actually, explain why it looks a bit more scratched than how he remembers it.  
  
While he wants to run after, to kick the bathroom door open and demand a proper explanation, he refrains. He has a strong feeling that Yixing won’t come out for a while, but he wants to trust him. He wants so badly to believe that a grown man can care for himself, no matter what hell he has gone through, and so he remains standing dumbfoundedly, looking at Mya-Mya as if she could by some miracle provide him with the answer needed.  
  
“What am I gonna do, kitty?” he asks as he picks her up instead of running, hugging her to his chest without breaking eye contact. “What would you do?”  
  
He waits, gazing into those yellow, lemon-shaped eyes that look as if they are the only thing separating him from endless wisdom. He waits, but there is nothing, only those beautiful eyes looking up at him without blinking. There comes no answer and although that is to be expected from an animal, Luhan still finds himself beaten with disappointment and irritation.  
  
“What do you know, huh? You’re just a cat,” he snorts while glaring down at the furry creature, too late to realise that he shouldn’t be that rude. Earning a soft slap in response before feeling sharp, tiny teeth dig into his fingers, he does for one short moment wonder if Yixing actually taught this kitty how to understand human language.  
  
Mya-Mya escapes his arms and runs to scratch the bathroom door, and so Luhan is left alone in the kitchen. The water is still running but he tries not to worry too much, because he knows from experience that if Yixing is significantly upset, he cries, and when he cries, he sobs. Loudly.  
  
 _Oh well_ , he thinks, shrugging although no one is around to see him. Yixing is sulking, anyway, and Mya-Mya is just dumb, and since it seems like he won’t be having any company for a while, he might as well make himself some coffee while waiting. If he can find some, that is.  
  
  
  
  
When Luhan returns from a much-needed visit to the corner store, Mya-Mya is playing around in the kitchen, trying to catch fruit flies that weren’t there thirty minutes ago. It’s strange, really, how they’re absolutely everywhere now, and while Luhan finds the sudden swarm of bugs strange and repugnant, he decides not to linger. He can find the source and kill them later; now, he needs to take care of his sulking friend.  
  
The water has stopped running but the bathroom door is still locked, separating him from the childish man who is, in fact, an adult. He could just save himself the trouble and unlock it, Luhan thinks fleetingly, only to sigh in remembrance of that day a few weeks ago when Yixing swallowed the extra key in a fit and it never came out. Instead knocking on it carefully, he leans in and tries to listen.  
  
“You okay in there?” he asks, raising his voice a bit in realisation of that his friend might have fallen asleep on the floor. It has happened before, so it wouldn’t really surprise him that much. “Yixing?”  
  
“I’m alive.”  
  
The voice is but a voweled breath, but there are at least no audible traces of tears in those mumbled words. Exhaling in relief, yet a bit irritated, Luhan wraps his fingers around the handle. He went out just to buy coffee, so he is sure as hell gonna make himself some – he just needs to solve this little issue named Yixing, first.  
  
“Okay, good. You wanna open the door? Come on, I need to have a look at your hands,” he speaks as calmly as his sudden headache allows him to, ready to get this over with. Silence, however, returns, as does his exasperation. “Xing?”  
  
Too many seconds pass by without a response, and he sighs heavily, fed up with this game which isn’t funny, at all. Yixing isn’t sleeping, and neither is he dying or anything of the sort, so a foul change of tactics might just do the trick.  
  
“Okay. I’ll leave now, then–” he begins, tired and annoyed, yet grinning automatically when he finds his method working.  
  
“No, wait,” he hears before the door opens, as expected, revealing a tousled Yixing who peeks out, fully clothed and with wide, worried eyes. “Don’t–don’t go… Can you… stay tonight?”  
  
Luhan chuckles but his victorious smile fades all too soon, turning into an aghast contortion at the moment he lets his gaze travel to Yixing’s now bare hands.  
  
“ _Oh my god, Xing, what did you–”_ he almost shrieks, his voice, however, fading along with sanity.  
  
It doesn’t really look like lacerations, but more like someone chewed at them with blunt teeth. Abrasions but deeper, like shallow, irregular avulsions. The skin is still there but it’s wrapped around his fingers sloppily, as if Yixing himself tried to bind it all together without any access to suture or even tape.  
  
Luhan just keeps gaping, violent shudders passing back and forth through his body in waves. There isn’t any blood and it smells rather foul, like meat being left out for a few hours too long, attracting flies. _Is that bone?_ he asks himself, however repulsed enough by the idea to whisk away the thought in an instance. It _does_ look like someone chewed on them, though, but it can’t be. His dangerously unstable friend probably just had an accident of some sort. He did for some ridiculous reason probably manage to put his fingers in a blender or something. Perhaps Yixing really is stupid enough to put his hands into a blender. _Fuck, that **is**_ _bone_.  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut in disgust and shock, Luhan shakes his head violently. Yixing doesn’t even own a mixer, goddamnit, but he _does_ own a cat.  
  
“Did Mya-Mya do this to you?” he asks as he opens his eyes, finally able to examine without feeling too sick. Grabbing Yixing’s wrists to have a closer look, he holds his breath in order to stop bile from travelling up his throat.  
  
Yixing, however, keeps his head lowered, letting out a quiet “no” while sounding as if he is admitting to having committed some great crime. Inhaling deeply but regretting it immediately as the foul smell comes back to him, Luhan nevertheless gazes at his best friend pityingly.  
  
“She did, didn’t she?” he sighs as he steps into the bathroom, noticing Mya-Mya who has been loitering behind him for minutes. Ready to block her out when she starts padding towards them, not wanting that little monster to be in the way, he does, however, find it unneeded when she freezes by the threshold, arching her back while hissing.  
  
Yixing is already crying softly by the time Luhan has shuffled the cat away, but the answer never comes, and Luhan doesn’t ask again. Instead of inquiring just embracing his friend, stroking his bony back in an attempt to soothe his tears, he hums and hushes and listens to the whimpers.  
  
“I–I’m so–so hu–hu–hungry…“ Yixing sobs, barely able to articulate the sentence with how he’s shaking and breathing irregularly against Luhan’s chest. Tears are streaming down his face, wetting both of their shirts, but Luhan just hugs him tighter, telling him that it’s alright.  
  
“Hush, it’s okay, I’ll make you something soon. And I’ll stay here tonight, don’t worry,” he whispers against a shivering neck before pulling back just a bit, wiping Yixing’s pink, puffy cheeks. Fishing out the necklace, the silvery cross he found earlier, he hangs it around his friend's neck and shoots him a smile. “Now let’s get those hands clean, hm?”  
  
Yixing keeps crying but he nods nevertheless, clinging to Luhan with a burgeoning smile. Peeking over his friend’s shoulder, at the kitten who won’t come closer, he sticks out his tongue with a sudden grin.  
  
Mya-Mya hisses, and the chain around Yixing’s neck feels a little too cold against his skin.


	3. Chapter 3

  
“ _Oh, God, my Lord, I now begin,_ ” Luhan hears when he wakes up from troubled dreams, turning next to Yixing to is mumbling in his sleep. Glancing at the clock which shows earlier than wanted, he heaves himself up on his elbows and mutters.  
  
“Xing? Wake up, you're having nightmares again–”  
  
“ _Oh, help me and I’ll leave my sin. For I repent and thou shalt be, through evil I will turn to thee_ –”  
  
“Xing, not now, it's two o’clock…”  
  
“– _whomever shall destroy my faith, nor do I mind what Satan saith_ –”  
  
“Yixing, _please_.”  
  
He pokes his side and frowns, yet sighing in relief when Yixing stops speaking and stirs dully beside him.  
  
“What?” his friend asks drowsily, rubbing his eyes as if it’s already morning. There is blood on the sheets from the wounds on his fingers, and the smell of infection hangs in the air.  
  
“You’re praying again,” Luhan murmurs, letting out a yawn as he lies back down. “It’s creepy.”  
  
There comes no further response and so he opts to return to sleep. With Mya-Mya is purring heavily between them, buried beneath their shared duvet despite her fur which is as thick as that of a sheepdog, he shuts his eyes and ignores the stench. There will be time to wash and bandage once the sun has fully risen – now, he just wants to let everything go, to dream about better days in which he will up wake in a world looking more colourful than grey.  
  
With one hand on the kitten and the other resting gently on the side on Yixing’s head, he lets his thoughts wander as sleepiness takes over. The further he drifts away, the more similar they feel, Yixing’s hair and the kitten’s fur.  
  
Yixing used to be like a cat – soft, playful, energetic – until the day came on which everything changed. It was all unexpected, a shock to friends and acquaintances alike, but above all else, it was a nightmare to Luhan who had to witness the transformation.  
  
Laughter losing its sincerity, turning more and more rare with each new dawn until even smiles were considered a phenomenon worth photographing. Limbs becoming heavier, showering and eating turning into tedious tasks laborious enough to avoid. Yixing’s soul leaving his body like disease sucking the life out of a moribund.  
  
On the border of dreamland, Luhan stirs. There is no more purring now when things are settled, when sickness is a fact and part of their life. Humming in grief, quietly and inadvertently, he lets his fingers brush through those tendrils of hair in need to get cut.  
  
Yixing is already deep asleep, and God knows what is haunting his dreams. Shifting closer than necessary, Luhan pulls him closer, inhaling his scent as if it never really changed.  
  
There used to be a time when Yixing’s skin smelled like carnival and forest, even without cologne or the softener in his sheets. Now it smells like apathy and ache, as if every memory of that certain day has settled in his pores and seep from there as a constant reminder. Walking into his apartment used to be like opening your own door after a week-long trip away from home, but now it feels like entering a kidnapper’s basement.  
  
Lost in memories and longing for old times, Luhan submits to slumber. Nostalgia is dangerous when strength is what he needs, but dwelling in the past is easier than moving on. It isn’t by his own will that he recollects their childhood or the time they fled home just to hitchhike between cities, and neither does he like the feeling caused by such remembrances. He is, in the end, but a slave to his own memories, just as Yixing is held captive by instability and illness.  
  
The kitten flees when her space gets claimed, conquered by Luhan who moves closer in his sleep. Skipping away to catch some flies that have gathered in the kitchen around dirty bandages, she leaves the lifelong friends entangled beneath the covers. Tears wet the double pillow when Luhan dreams of blueberry ice cream and teenage rebellion, but they dry long before he wakes up to notice.  
  
When morning arrives, Luhan calls in sick. It is all a lie, what he tells his boss, but highly essential for the sake of Yixing whose fingers have started smelling awfully putrid.  
  
The wounds seem to be healing wrong, and the loose skin doesn’t stick to his fingers anymore. Stitches are much needed and so Luhan drags him out of bed before noon, stuffing him in the car in spite of whiny protests and childish tears.  
  
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks him later when the task is done and the hospital is but a reflection in the rearview mirror. Trying to focus on the road, yet failing, he grins at Yixing who is moping in the passenger seat.  
  
“You owe me ice cream,” the latter mutters almost imperceptibly, with arms crossed looking anywhere but at his friend. His wounds aren’t odorous anymore now that they have been taken care of by professionals, but since health isn’t his personal priority, the fact doesn’t seem to gladden him that much.  
  
“ _You_ owe _me_ several fingers,” Luhan responds sarcastically, sticking out his tongue like he did when they were children. Finally able to turn his head when a red light allows him to idle for a moment, he nudges Yixing’s shoulder and continues. “Besides, I already bought you ice cream yesterday.”  
  
The prescribed drugs rattle in the glove compartment when the red light turns yellow and eventually green. Still grinning in spite of that sound, Luhan laughs aloud at Yixing whose expression is contorted, yet surprisingly cute.  
  
Antibiotics aren’t supposed to be mixed with antidepressants, even less with neuroleptics, but infections are infections and they need to be treated. He knows this and accepts it, for now disregarding his own aversion to combining different drugs. The risk of blood poisoning due to abrasions isn’t that high, yet high enough for the boy with haemophilia, so Luhan won’t be the one to deny him medication.  
  
“Are you staying tonight?” he hears after a while, his smile fading for reasons he cannot grasp. Reaching out an arm but with his gaze still locked on the road ahead, he pats Yixing’s head and considers his options.  
  
Sometimes, just sometimes, he wants to say no. His conscience rarely offers him that choice, however.  
  
“Of course,” he chuckles, as expected, admitting defeat. Maybe there will come a day on which a simple no won’t ruin someone’s week, but today is not that day, and neither is tomorrow.  
  
  
  
  
Luhan ends up buying ice cream, after all.   
  
“But blueberry is your favourite,” is what he mumbles, confused, when Yixing firmly claims that cherry is what he wants. Nevertheless succumbing to the wish when his friend starts wailing about how “Luhan should know that he hates blueberry more than life”, he apologises to the cashier and brings out his wallet.  
  
The ice cream ends up thrown up into the sink back home. There is no surprise in that.  
  
“I’m so hungry…” Yixing complains only seconds later, baby pink vomit running down his chin. His hands are right there before Luhan has time to stop what is happening, his brand new bandages soon drenched in that thick, milky liquid.  
  
Luhan groans in utter frustration.  
  
 _He’ll be alright eventually_ , he recalls in an instant, shutting his eyes in an attempt to calm down. Cursing Minseok for not elaborating further, yet forcing a smile when Yixing starts crying, he looks up again and picks up a cloth.  
  
“Hush, Xing, it’s okay. I’ll get you some real food later, don’t worry. Now let’s remove those bandages.”  
  
All he can really do, in the end, is offer his support in whatever way seems right at the moment. That, while praying that the so-called “eventually” will come sooner rather than later.  
  
  
  
  
It is 03:07 when the sound of hissing pulls Luhan out of sleep. Glancing at the clock with eyes all swollen, he swallows a moan and turns to his side.  
  
“Shut up…” he rasps as he throws a pillow towards the kitten who just avoids it. Arching her back, she yowls at nothing, having Luhan wonder what could possibly have scared a _blind_ cat. “Oh, come on…”  
  
He isn’t in the mood for feline antics, especially not at this time of night. It isn't long since he fell asleep since Yixing spent hours squeezing him to death, apparently regretting his hour-long insisting on watching some splatter film about a cannibalistic ailurophile.  
  
Ready to leave the warm, soft bed in order to shoo that little monster called Mya-Mya away, Luhan rolls over, tired and annoyed. What he wants is just to back to sleep, to hide beneath the sheets until his boss fires him for non-attendance. Shrill, ceaseless meowing is, however, far from the lullaby he would prefer to have playing, hence has he no choice but to face the coldness of his friend’s poorly isolated bedroom.  
  
“You better run, kitty, ‘cause I’m gonna get you,” he murmurs through his teeth, sitting up straight and determined to put an end to this seemingly endless nonsense. Cracking his fingers in preparation for the hunt, he grins mischievously in spite of the tiredness. “Maybe I’ll make a stew out of you, what do you know? You’re just a stupid cat–”  
  
He pauses.  
  
“Xing?”  
  
There is no response.  
  
“What are you doing down there?”  
  
It isn’t until now that he hears it over the hissing; the munching noises, the ever so quiet, incoherent mumbling. It isn’t until now the notices that Yixing isn’t lying on the bed, but sitting right next to with only the top of his head peeking up over the edge.  
  
Mya-Mya holds her body sideways, flattening her tiny ears while lifting her paw to hover above the floor. Her pupils are dilated to the maximum, staring right forward in spite of her blindness, but her suddenly undomesticated behaviour is no longer the centre of Luhan’s attention.  
  
Apparently, a screaming kitten is not the only strange thing happening at this hour.  
  
“What are you doing?” Luhan repeats carefully as he crawls towards the edge, nudging Yixing who doesn’t react. “Are you sleepwalking again?” he asks with a whisper, not wanting to wake the boy in case his guess turns out to be right.  
  
It wouldn’t be the first time that his troubled friend left bed at night only to walk around aimlessly until settling on the floor. Luhan has been through this many, many times, but unlike those occasionally violent fits that come every other week or so, sleepwalking isn’t nearly as dangerous as the other disorders his friend has turned out to suffer from. Yixing’s parasomnia is but a trifle compared to what happens during daytime, and this particular night is probably no exception. That is at least what Luhan believes until he registers the smell of metal and urine.  
  
He nearly panics.  
  
“ _What have you done._ ”  
  
Shooting up to crouch before his friend, he stumbles over nothing, almost falling. It isn’t pretty, the sight before him, with Yixing sucking– no, chewing on his own fingers. The bandages are discarded, tossed to the floor along with whatever surgical thread isn’t hanging from his lips. The wounds are all re-opened, much deeper than before, and the sound of him chomping is unsettling, to say the least.  
  
He must have wet his pants because the odour is pungent, emerging from the puddle in which he is sits slumped against the bed. Continuing to chew on his own flesh and bone, he rocks back and forth ever so slowly without acknowledging Luhan who is shouting. Stains of blood are scattered here and there, mixing with the urine and smeared across his chin, and although his eyes are wide open, he doesn’t seem awake at all.  
  
Only muffled hums are offered in response when Luhan grabs his shoulders and shakes, attempting to drag him out of whatever this fit of insanity is supposed to be. Whimpers spill from his swollen, red lips when his fingers get snatched away like a bottle from a baby, and not until he is kept from putting them back into his mouth does he finally react.  
  
“Nooo,” he whines, looking up at Luhan who doesn’t know how to handle the situation, whether scream in horror or cry out of frustration. A small chunk of flesh falls between his legs when he keeps fighting, determined to keep eating, shreds of his torn off skin swinging from his lips when he murmurs in protest. “Don’t… no… stop…”  
  
Luhan won’t have any of it, yet his struggle turns greater than expected. Shrieking in pain when his friend bites his forearm, soon paling significantly at the feeling of his own skin getting pierced, he yanks back and lands on his butt. Only the sound of chewing and yowling replaces his previous shouts when he stares in pure shock and covers the bite mark, not able to fathom what is happening or why.  
  
“What are… Xing, what are you doing…” he mumbles, leaning back against the puddled floor. The urine doesn’t even register in his mind, not when his friend proceeds to munch with an expression like that of a starving animal.  
  
He tears up, for a moment only listening to Yixing crushing joints with his teeth with Mya-Mya hissing continuously in the background. “I’m so hungry…” he hears in between the gnawing, the slurping caused by Yixing’s tongue swirling over tendons, but his mind is in a state of chaos and he finds himself unable to do much but watch.  
  
Minutes pass by before he gathers his wit, rising to his knees in ultimate determination. The floor is slippery, yet he keeps crawling, taking a leap forward to prevent his friend from devouring it all.  
  
“No, you–you can’t–” he grunts after putting up a fight, but his hands around Yixing’s wrists aren’t strong enough to pry the fingers away. Holding his breath in one last attempt, he gives it his all, yet failing miserably when Yixing bites down harder and growls. “Xing, stop– please– stop– _chewing_ – _goddamnit_ –”  
  
The kitten keeps yowling at a safe distance, but her cries pass by unregistered by the fighting boys who have been friends since before they can remember.


	4. Chapter 4

The doctor seemed to believe Luhan’s bullshitting about some stray dog having attacked him and Yixing during a walk in the park. She _did_ look suspicious when the latter started sobbing while repeatedly apologising for “being so hungry”, but sympathetic nods were still offered in response when Luhan tried to explain to her that his friend is just “tired” and “emotionally unwell”.  
  
It is all a bit better now when they have both calmed down considerably; Yixing’s bedroom is tidied and thoroughly disinfected, the floor now scrubbed free of blood and ammonia. His fingers are bandaged and so are various parts of Luhan’s body which on that night became victim of defensive biting and violent scratching. It started hurting like hell once the painkillers wore off for Luhan who isn't used to pain, but his own wounds are still not nearly comparable to those of his friend. Then again, however, did said friend focus more on devouring himself than fighting off whatever tried to separate his teeth from his flesh.  
  
It has been a week now since the incident occurred, seven days of trying to figure out what happened. It hasn’t exactly been a dance on roses but although stitches were needed to seal both of their wounds, they are fine. As fine as they can be, at least, given the circumstances.  
  
Luhan tries not to think too much of it all. Yixing is just stressed, and that is all there is to it. It might have looked bad in the eyes of others, a fully grown man trying to eat his own body, but Yixing is Yixing, the one since the accident. He will be alright eventually, just like Minseok said.  
  
Time will fix his mental wounds just like it will heal the ones on his fingers, even though those wounds will never… well, fully heal. Correctional surgery might be in order if they want his hands to look as pretty as they used to, but that is something to speak of in the future. Yixing doesn’t have the money and neither does Luhan, so for now, they are just gonna have to live with the scars.   
  
If Luhan is to be honest, though, things haven’t actually been that bad after they got back from the ER last week. Work hasn’t been too stressful and he has had time to catch up with Minseok more than once. Yixing hasn’t been as clingy as usual, has washed by his own will not only once, but twice, and nothing strange has happened since that night. He actually sounded quite happy over the phone when Luhan called to check how he was doing, and now he sits on the kitchen counter, amusing his friend by having friendly conversations with the garden birds chirping by the windowsill outside.  
  
He even says that some lady at the dry cleaner’s across the street has offered him some hours as a fill-in. He tells the birds about it, not Luhan, but the latter doesn’t really mind – all he needs is to know is what is going on in Yixing’s life, thus being able to stop any potential decisions in case they turn out to be stupid or dangerous.   
  
This particular decision doesn’t sound too bad, however; a dry cleaner’s tasks should be simple enough, and the place is, moreover, not too far from home. Just a few steps over the rarely trafficked road are all it takes for Yixing to get there, so it is probably just silly to worry about him having to leave the apartment alone without a leash. He might get run over if he forgets to look both ways, sure, but a line needs to be drawn somewhere for him to ever have a chance to recover on his own.  
  
He will be okay. He needs to be.  
  
Luhan smiles now in this fleeting moment of precious positivity, hugging Mya-Mya who sits purring on his lap. He didn’t really like the kitten at first when Yixing brought her over the threshold to this abode, but he admits now as he strokes her fur that it must have been just his own continuous worrying about even the simplest of matters. He realises now that it was stupid of him to fret, that felines aren't demons in disguise and that Yixing is despite his emotional as well as economic instability fully able to care for a pet.  
  
It is true that he is still awfully forgetful and leaves the litter box unemptied for days on rows, but he cuddles with the kitten, feeds her regularly, and keeps the windows shut for the sake of her safety. One would be lying if claiming that he isn’t a good owner, after all, even if he is sick and won’t care for himself.  
  
Luhan is actually thankful towards the cat for providing his friend with love and intimacy when no one else is around to do so.  
  
“Blacks and bays, dapples and greys,” Yixing suddenly hums now where he sits dangling his legs and tapping the window with the tip of his bandaged finger. “All the pretty little birdies.”  
  
The birds keep picking rapeseed from the tray feeder and Luhan chuckles a bit with feeling, watching and listening to his friend’s quiet singing while Mya-Mya keeps purring languidly on his lap. It has been a while since Yixing’s lips spilt melodies and not cries, curling slightly upwards instead of trembling uncontrollably while complaining about a hunger that never seems to fully go away.  
  
“Way down yonder in the meadow lies a poor little lamby, bees and butterflies flitting around his eyes.” Yixing murmurs the berceuse softly, the cute little birdies chanting alongside. He pouts just slightly when they refuse to come closer, his head sprinkled with yesterday’s crackers leaning heavily against the single glazed window. “Poor little thing is crying _mommy_.”  
  
He slams his hand against the glass all suddenly, having finches and blackbirds leave their feathers behind while fleeing out of fear, soaring through the air above. There is no smile anymore and so Luhan keeps watching him, once again concerned, throwing Mya-Mya off his lap to make way towards his friend.  
  
“Hush-a-bye,” Yixing mumbles then, gaze still locked on the animals outside. “Don’t you cry.”  
  
Luhan continues the lullaby for him.  
  
“Go to sleepy little baby.”  
  
Nothing sounds when the singing dies out save for Mya-Mya taking a leap to sit beside her beloved owner. She continues to purr when sun rays find her frame through the windows, and she rubs against Yixing’s thigh on a quest for attention, for a hand to pet her head with love.  
  
There is barely any time to react before it happens, to stop the sick one from digging his own grave.  
  
With a groan of distress or perhaps even rage, Yixing takes the kitten in his hands and throws her across the room. It feels almost as if time slows down before her delicate body hits the wall with a thud, all sense of balance lost at the moment her head meets the plastered concrete. The purrs cease then when she falls to the floor and struggles to rise to her now stumbling paws, the audible tokens of her love for her owner replaced by yowling that sounds more sad than enraged.  
  
Luhan just gapes in shock and in heartache, his worries resurfaced in less than a second.  
  
“Hush-a-bye,” Yixing whispers before breaking, blood now seeping through his bandages down his wrists. “Don’t you cry.”  
  
The look on his face is indecipherable at first, his eyes wide open as his mouth seals shut. Eyelids are twitching, as are his fingers down which pus-mixed blood keeps coursing from his wounds. He cracks on the inside whilst staring in silence, his wet gaze flickering, yet locked on the kitten.  
  
Lips tremble, ankles getting sprained, and that is when Luhan realises, at last, that his own shock is nothing in comparison.  
  
There are no words, no desperate running after he who slams the bathroom door shut and screams in confusion and immediate regret. Luhan doesn’t even consider a chase, a slap in upset or pleas for explanations; he knows that there is nothing to say, that no letters could ever spell out rationales for things that are as inexplicable as they are unfortunate.  
  
Potential blood stains are deemed irrelevant when he unlocks his own limbs to kneel before the kitten. With lips spilling shaky breaths as he picks her up more gently than ever, the harmless creature made of fluff and bones, he prays that the tears gathering in the corners his eyes won’t sting as bad once he lets them fall freely.  
  
Pain and betrayal is a melody sung by Mya-Mya whose own eyes might be broken forever but whose remaining senses crave the love she just lost.  
  
“It’s okay, kitty,” Luhan hushes into her ear, kisses placed everywhere to make up for the pain. “It’s okay,” he snivels while hugging her tighter, his nose pressing deeper into soft, ashen fur. “I’m so sorry. He didn’t mean to.”  
  
Echoes of sobs fill the empty hallway, and Luhan wonders when his cries mix with those of Yixing if Minseok’s words will ever come true.  
  
  
  
  
A few days pass and Luhan lumbers back outside for the fifth, seventh, thirteenth time. He doesn’t keep track of how long he has tried to through the bathroom door convince Yixing that mistakes are forgivable and his body unwell, that he needs to come out in order to recover. He tries to assure him that the kitten won’t hate him, but protests disguise as quiet snivels and are the only thing uttered in response.  
  
Yixing chooses seclusion over anything due to some crooked belief that his very existence brings only pain. He locks himself in and everyone else out, cancels calls and tells Luhan to forget him. He won’t come out from the bathroom at all until the lights are switched off and the front door clicks shut, his only friend sighing in defeat, scuffing dejectedly down the stairwell to the car.  
  
Mya-Mya is the only one to witness those tears rolling silently down his cheeks late at night, that remorseful whispering drowned out by the sound of hunger, teeth gnawing restlessly on filthy bandages. She cuddles up between his legs as if sensing that ache in his rumbling stomach, starts purring like the kitty she is as if the hands finding her paws to squeeze has only ever touched her with love.  
  
She will forgive him, eventually.  
  
  
  
  
Luhan isn’t one to give up despite having felt tempted to do so lately. Yixing is his friend since forever, after all, the rock from his past, his unweaned lamb, and friends do when all else fails at least fall together as one and the same.  
  
He doesn’t want to fall just yet, but hope weighs heavier than the fear of getting dragged down by someone who nowadays prefers darkness over daylight.  
  
This is why he visits Yixing again after days spent distressing at work over matters that cannot possibly be as complicated as they look when viewed through eyes glazed with tears. Throwing a kitten against a wall might seem mental, especially when it comes to the most gentle of ailurophiles, but Luhan has concluded that it must have been a tic born from stress or lack of sleep.  
  
He nears the street, feigning a smile, sun rays reflected in the rearview mirror.  
  
Yixing didn’t get those hours as a fill-in since he never even showed up to claim them. It hurts Luhan to see his friend fall apart when there used to be a time when he functioned properly, but what is one single missed opportunity compared to a future which will hopefully be bright enough once pain is overcome and memories dealt with? Things can’t stay bad forever, not when they are still so young.  
  
He slows down when he gets reaches the street, bags of food and snacks rustling beside him. The sight he is met with is surprising, to say the least, strange enough to have him doubt his own eyes.  
  
He hoped for as much as to find Yixing awake, perhaps even cuddling with the kitten or describing his nightmares in detail to the birdies by the window. What he didn’t expect was to see him standing outside, conversing gaily with some familiar neighbour.  
  
His eyes must be fooling him.  
  
Luhan has seen that person before, exchanged polite greetings that were more forced than sought for. For all he has noticed since the accident back then, these “friendly” neighbours do either shun his friend or live happily unaware of his miserable existence, and Yixing is, furthermore, not interested in people since a human once hurt him enough for him to fear them.  
  
This neighbour is now smiling, however, and Yixing smiles back, his lips forming words and eyes free of tears. He suddenly looks happier than he has been months, and the sight of it has something break inside of Luhan.  
  
He isn’t jealous, the latter tells himself, lying, of that other person. He doesn't feel bitter over that a stranger, of all people, has managed to lure that smile out of Yixing who has for days in a row now kept crying like some baby while refusing to open the door and let him in. He isn’t jealous, not at all, yet he reverses and hits the gas.   
  
Yixing doesn't notice him, at all.  
  
Packages of ice cream roll around on the passenger seat and while he could have just went inside to leave them, he opts to return there another night. If Yixing is making friends then Luhan won’t be there to bother him, for new friends are according to his psychiatrist just what is needed to move on from that accident.  
  
The sound of honking flies right past his when he steps on the gas, ignoring the red lights. The steering wheel starts vibrating then and he wonders just briefly if maybe, _maybe_ , he is part of the problem.  
  
  
  
  
It doesn’t take even a day for him to return.  
  
“What’s wrong?” is, naturally, the first thing when he asks when he spots his friend brooding in the kitchen with the blinds pulled down, sunlight kept out. The neighbour from yesterday is left unmentioned. “Hm?”  
  
Placing the bags of groceries on the table, he positions himself on his knees before Yixing who is hugging his own legs, pouting his lips. The air smells like rotting meat and flies are back to hover above the sink, pestering Luhan with their mere presence while offering no explanation as to why they are there. The birdies aren’t chirping today and a cockroach darts across the floor in a hurry.  
  
There are no traces on Yixing’s face of that smile Luhan saw there yesterday, but his bandages are intact and his clothes rather clean. The bags beneath his eyes are as dark as ever and his cheeks are still sunken in enough to erase that dimple of his, but it is safe to say that he doesn’t look _worse_.  
  
His expression, however, gives something away.  
  
“Mya-Mya is gone,” he snivels quietly, hiding his face behind wounded fingers.  “Sh–she ran away.”  
  
The blinds start moving when a breeze creeps inside, and Luhan rushes to find the window wide open. Sticking out his head in search of Mya-Mya who is an indoor pet and thus unable to sneak out somewhere else, he lets out a sigh, already crushed.  
  
It leads to the roof. There is no cat in sight.  
  
“What did I tell you about the windows?” he blurts, shocked and sad and disappointed, all at once. “Of course she’ll run away if you leave them like that!”  
  
The words only cause Yixing to tear up even more, his legs cracking when he hugs them tighter and presses his trembling lips against knees that are already wet with drool and shaking uncontrollably.  
  
Luhan sighs again, now in pity, immediately feeling bad for blaming his friend.  
  
“Oh, Xing…”  
  
Snivels turn into sobs when he wraps his arms around the crying boy, hushing him gently, stroking his neck. He is cold, so cold, Yixing who left the window open by mistake, but Luhan still attempts a smile as if that will bring the kitten back.  
  
He has to be positive for the sake of his friend; Mya-Mya might have fled through the window, either upset about earlier or just too curious to resist, but felines are agile and with nine whole lives making it rather improbable for such a creature to not survive a fall from the roof. The building is, moreover, not even that high and there are in addition to that lots of downpipes for Mya-Mya to climb up in case she wants to go back home.  
  
Luhan presses Yixing closer to himself, as always not minding his own shirt getting wet.  
  
“There, there, Xing. She’ll come back when she gets hungry,” he whispers into hair that does for once not shed bread crumbs when touched. “And I’ll put some flyers up just in case, okay? It’s gonna be alright, I promise. We’ll find her, you’ll see.”  
  
The sobs seem to die down at least a little bit and so he pulls back, smiling in encouragement and with much more sincerity. With hands gripping shoulders firmly and eyes seeking contact with Yixing’s that are flickering, he ignores the sound flies buzzing, cockroaches crawling from the corners up the walls.  
  
“Okay?” he repeats, wiping those tears that continue to course down his best friend’s cheeks.   
  
Yixing keeps snivelling and trembling beneath his touch, but nods with a pout looking sad, yet less so.  
  
“O–okay.”  
  
“It will all be fine,” is what Luhan says then when rising to his feet, beginning to unpack the neglected groceries. Perhaps a little melted ice cream will help his friend forget what has happened even if it lasts for just an hour or two, thus does he bring out a package, still smiling.  
  
“Are you hungry?” he asks, thinking he knows the answer to that question.  
  
Yixing, however, shakes his head.  
  
“I already ate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/vrBjV5axUl0?t=1281


End file.
